The gentle rolling and bumping of the carriage had lulled her into a light sleep, but she was jerked back to full wakefulness when the driver pulled on the reins and brought it to a stop. There was a shuffling and clatter of hooves as her escort gathered itself around her, but there were no voices or sounds of weapons being drawn. No trouble, then. Just a routine stop.

"We have arrived, My Lady," said the driver from above her.

Lady Penmark felt a moment of surprise. She must have been asleep for longer than she'd thought. Her last clear memory was of their crossing of the Fords of Asher, when water had seeped in under the door and threatened to wet her shiny Dragon leather boots. That had been less than two hours after leaving Direfell Castle, her ancestral home and seat of power. The political manoeuvrings that had been occupying so much of her time recently must have left her more tired than she'd thought.

She allowed no trace of surprise to show on her face, though. Appearances had to be upheld. Across the carriage from her, Lothby, her Master at Arms and principle bodyguard, was already opening the door to disembark. Checking their surroundings for anything that might be a threat before allowing his master to be exposed. His hand went to the hilt of his sword as his lean, scarred face turned this way and that, his steely grey eyes narrowing as he searched for anything out of place. Anything not as it should be.

"Place always stinks of the sea," he said, relaxing the tiniest amount.

"That comes from the proximity of our host's residence to the watery realm," answered Penmark as she leaned forward, preparing to follow the soldier out of the carriage. Lothby just scowled, though, making the scar that ran down his face twist like a serpent. He had no sense of humour that Penmark had ever been able to detect. On one occasion, he'd remarked that humour was for jesters and cowards, a sentiment that Penmark shared for the most part, although she'd occasionally found it useful for covering a moment of doubt and give her time to gather her wits when events took a sudden unexpected turn. Also, back in the long, lost years of her youth, she'd used it, along with her once legendary beauty, to make her appear dotty and brainless, to make people underestimate her and give her an advantage. That rarely worked any longer. Her reputation had expanded to cover the whole of the Kingdom, but making a jocular remark was still useful when she needed someone to hesitate, to wonder what she was up to. To wonder whether the joke was a prelude to something more serious. One moment of hesitation was usually all she needed.

She looked out through the carriage window before disembarking, and hissed through her teeth when she saw the figure that had emerged from the mansion to greet her. Not Lord Born, but his sister, the Lady Tamberline, accompanied by her personal bodyguard. Not a man she recognised. She must have replaced him since their last visit to Malfort Mansion, six months ago.

Tamberline was dressed in her finest gown, and there was an honour guard of household troops behind her. That was as it should be, to welcome a figure of her status, but that itself was strange. Tamberline hated her, she knew, and on previous visits had never missed an opportunity to insult her. Subtle, careful insults, but insults all the same. Once, for instance, she had worn a casual gown to greet her, as if she'd been busy about her everyday tasks and hadn't been expecting visitors. What was going on? Why the change? She shared a glance with Lothby, who gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement. They would both be on their guard.

There was a small, reptilian creature coiled around Tamberline's neck. It looked like a lizard, but it had wings folded across its back and its tail ended with a venom sack and a wicked spike. Her pet grikon, a creature known for its unpredictable nature and foul temper. A creature she'd raised from an egg and trained to trust and obey her. It had been nothing more than a hatching the last time they'd been here, but the kingdom was already filled with rumours that she'd used it to kill lovers who'd disappointed her, as well as the occasional member of the household staff, just for fun. She took it everywhere with her, she'd heard, even on visits to other noble houses, so it wasn't overly strange or worrying that she'd brought it to welcome her visitor. Strictly speaking she should have left it behind, but Penmark was quite confident that, if it were to attack, Lothby would be able to stop it before it was able to hurt her.

Penmark climbed down from the carriage and took a moment to adjust her skirt while, around her, the riders remained on their horses, their eyes never leaving the honour guard behind the slender young woman walking towards them. A single wrong move from any of the armed men present could spark violence, and so every one of them kept perfectly motionless, waiting to see how the meeting between the two women would go. Hand signals and code words had been arranged beforehand. Either of the two women could order an attack at any moment. Lothby had remarked once that he was reminded of scorpions mating, each of them holding the claws of the other to ensure that they couldn't take advantage of the meeting to kill and eat the other. Yes, thought Penmark. Scorpions and aristocrats. Very similar creatures.

"Lady Penmark," said Tamberline when she was close enough. She gave a low curtsy, acknowledging the other woman's higher status. Head of a great house rather than the sister of the head of a great house. "How good to see you again. It's been too long."

"Tamberline," said Penmark, frowning suspiciously. This really was unexpected, and suspicious. "Too long, as you say. I hope you and your brother are both well."

"We are both in excellent health. As I hope you are as well." She took a small piece of dried meat from a pocket and tossed it upwards. The grikon's head shot out on the end of its long neck and snatched it out of the air. The movement momentarily unbalanced it and it tightened the grip of its claws on the bare, pale skin of the woman's shoulder while giving a flap of its batlike wings. It must have hurt her, but she gave no sign of it. Above them, a seagull chose that moment to give a long, lonely cry.

"My brother sends his apologies that he couldn't be here to welcome you himself," she said with an apologetic smile. "Something urgent came up and he had to leave for Chatterly. I would like to add my own apologies to his. For him not to be present to greet a woman of your station is unheard of, and I hope you can forgive us for this insult."

"There is no insult," said Penmark. More magnanimously than she would have preferred, but Tamberline's contrite attitude left her no choice. "I know better than anyone how quickly a matter requiring urgent attention can arise. May I ask when he expects to be able to return?"

"Tomorrow at the earliest, I'm afraid. You are, of course, welcome to spend the night here and dine with me. A guest groom is being prepared even as we speak, as well as quarters for your men."

She sensed Lothby growing tense beside her. Her guest room would be in the main part of the mansion, of course, while her men would be in the servants quarters, leaving Penmark alone, surrounded by people in the pay of a rival house. Lothby would, no doubt, be urging her to take rooms in the boarding house of a nearby village if protocol allowed him to speak. In a boarding house, she would be surrounded by her own men. She saw her riders also growing tense, each of them thinking of wives and children held hostage in Direfell Castle. Would they be held personally accountable if Penmark died as a result of a risk she'd chosen to take?

Penmark allowed her smile to widen. "I would be delighted to accept your gracious hospitality," she said. Around her, she felt the tension growing further. "I will, of course, require my manservant to remain by my side." She indicated Lothby, beside her.

Tamberline's smile wavered for a moment before returning. Lobthy also had a reputation that spanned the kingdom, and that went far beyond it. "Your, er, manservant," she said. "Yes, of course. He will have a room beside yours."

Penmark bowed her head in gratitude. She made a gesture with one hand and her riders dismounted in perfect synchrony. Tamberline's honour guard relaxed fractionally, and Lothby allowed himself to stand a little easier as well. Some stableboys were approaching, and they led the riders and their horses to the stables while Penmark and Lothby followed Lady Taberline and her bodyguard to the mansion. The grikon stared at them as they walked, and Penmark saw the hatred and malice in its tiny, black eyes. Only its loyalty to its mistress was keeping it from striking at them right now.

Penmark beckoned Lothby closer to her. "We weren't expecting to be here long enough to be eating," she said. "Send a couple of men into a nearby town and bring a young lad back to be our food taster."

Lothby nodded and left her to speak to the riders. Penmark and Tamberline went the rest of the way to the mansion alone.

☆☆☆

The food taster turned out to be a flaxen haired boy of around sixteen, the son of a local farmer. He'd been hurriedly stripped, washed and dressed in a gown of blue silk that contrasted with the deeply tanned skin of his face and hands in a way that Penmark found rather arousing. His eyes widened with fear with every mouthful of food Penmark held out for him, but he ate it obediently and sagged with relief when he didn't die. There were slow acting poisons, of course, but Penmark didn't really think they were in much danger. Lord Born didn't hesitate to have people killed when he felt it necessary, but poison wasn't his style. The food taster was more for appearances than anything else. Anyone who was anyone had a food taster when dining as a guest of a rival. It wasn't even an insult to their host. A food taster was just a fashionable appendage, like jewellery or a pampered pet.

"The music is excellent," she said, just for conversation. She looked across at the harpist, the naked young woman playing her own surgically altered body with her long, slender fingers. "That's Terpsichore, isn't it?"

Lady Tamberline finished chewing her piece of swan meat with small, delicate movements of her mouth and swallowed before answering. "Indeed," she said. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip. "The finest harpist in the kingdom. She cost my brother nearly fifty thousand florins. He had to overcome quite a bit of competition to acquire her. Count Halliwell was also interested in her, and Chross the Calmanian, her previous owner, had promised her to him as part of a business deal they were negotiating."

"Halliwell died under mysterious circumstances at around that time. Just a coincidence, of course."

"Of course."

"Is it true that every note they play causes them pain?"

"I believe so. They say that's the reason their music is so sweet and beautiful." She cut off a small piece of meat and tossed it upwards. The grikon leapt into flight to snatch it out of the air, then circled the room on outstretched wings before returning to its perch beside the window to eat it. "It would be a great pity if the King banned the production of such wonderful things."

Penmark shrugged. With all the other important matters on her mind at the moment, she couldn't really care less about harpists, but the rules of polite conversation required her to reply to the comment. "What would we do with all the harpists that already exist if he did that?" she said therefore.

"Well, precisely! Would we have to just kill them?" The music faltered just momentarily as if the harpist was wondering the same thing.

"I would imagine that harpists that already exist would be allowed to live on, but that no new ones would be allowed to be created."

Lady Tamberline shook her head in disbelief. "Imagine being allowed to hear such divine music while knowing that the sound would soon perish from the world forever. Imagine the last few harpist being repeatedly re-tuned as their skin ages and sags, long past the point where they would normally have been discarded."

"Perhaps the King will see sense and allow them to continued to be made."

"We can hope, but he has made some very strange decisions lately."

Penmark nodded and took a sip from her own wine glass. "Less severe punishments for slaves. Doctors forbidden from assassinating their patients. Trials for aristocrats accused of crimes..."

Lothby had been standing with his back to the wall, staring across at his opposite number, Tamberline's new bodyguard, but now Penmark saw him look up sharply. He remained silent, though. Protocol still prevented him from entering a conversation between his betters. Tamberline noticed, though, and arched an eyebrow at Penmark.

"My manservant is of the very sensible opinion that anyone suspected of a crime should simply be killed and have done with it," said Penmark. "Everyone else will then take very great care to avoid arousing suspicion."

"Very sensible," Tamberline agreed. "My opinion is that his disturbingly liberal attitudes stem from the premature death of his father. So long as King Osborn was alive, he could keep his son in the proper environment for one of his station, but when he died Boris was the King. He could go where he wanted, do what he wanted. Who can say no to a king?"

Penmark nodded. "They say he became curious about the way the lower orders lived. He visited them and developed a friendship with the daughter of the Master of Hounds."

"That is what my friends in the palace tell me." Tamberline smiled at the euphemism. "When he found out that the girl had been taken by the surgeons and turned into an art form he flew into a rage and had them all executed. Ever since then, he has hated surgeons and will not have any of them in the palace. They say he's within a hairsbreadth of having every surgeon in the kingdom put to death."

"I have heard that he keeps the girl, what's left of her, in his own rooms in the palace. He feeds her himself and even talks to her, as if there were something in the living flesh still capable of understanding. That led, in turn, to all the new laws. Everything he can do to improve the lot of the common folk without wrecking the economy of the whole kingdom."

"The one about doctors, though. Imagine if doctors could be trusted not to do their patients any harm. Really trusted, perhaps due to some kind of hypnotic conditioning. Imagine not having to worry that your doctor might have been bought by a rival every time you ask for a headache cure."

"How could you enforce such a law?" asked Penmark. "No form of conditioning is perfect, and people die from time to time. If you suspected the doctor of having had a hand in it, how would you ever prove it? You would need another doctor to examine the corpse, and they might also have been bought. And who would ever choose to become a doctor if they might be executed on suspicion of murder every time one of their patients died?"

"Other professions have compelled practitioners," pointed out Tamberline. "Young people in the leisure sector. Musicians, such as Terpsichore here. Your hastily pressganged food taster. Why not doctors? Until recently, doctors were the only people below the ranks of the aristocracy legally allowed to kill people. Speaking personally, I'm not sorry that those days are over."

"You have a point," conceded Penmark. She stabbed a nightingale's tongue with her fork and held it out to the food taster. He took the fork from her, and for a moment she felt the hard callouses of his hands against the backs of her fingers. As he put the tongue into his mouth, she wondered what those rough, calloused hands would feel like against her bare skin. She licked her lips thoughtfully. Fifty eight years old, she thought, and a pretty boy still has me wet between the legs like a teenager!

Tamberline smiled, noticing her arousal. "You would be perfectly welcome to have the boy warm your bed tonight," she said. "I was going to offer you one of the young men of my household staff, but if you would prefer him..."

"I am here on serious business," replied Penmark. "I don't want to be distracted." And it would be madness to leave herself naked, both literally and figuratively, to a stranger while a guest in her rival's house. Her need for a food taster would have been anticipated and the young man might have been planted in the nearest village with secret instructions and loved family members held hostage. She was angered to see a look of relief flash across the young man's face, though. Have I really lost so much of my youthful good looks? she thought. He would pay for that look of relief, she decided. When he returned to his farm, he would have to learn to work it with only one hand.

"Does your serious business have to do with the reforms the King intends to bring in?" asked Tamberline. "All the great houses are abuzz with consternation. They see fortunes being lost, power shifting in unpredictable directions. Perhaps you and my brother have a strategy in mind for dealing with the coming age of uncertainty."

"My business is with your brother," said Penmark sharply. "Not with you."

Tamberline's new bodyguard reached a hand towards the sword on his belt. Lothby did the same as they both took a step forward to confront each other. The table was between them, they would have to jump over it to do battle. Tamberline rose to her feet, though, and made a placatory gesture to her man with a pale, slender hand. The two bodyguards glared at each other again, but then retreated, their hands reluctantly leaving their weapons.

"You are correct," said Tamberline to Penmark. "I forgot myself, forgot my place. Please forgive me."

Penmark gave her a sweet smile. "There is nothing to forgive. It is I who should ask forgiveness for the sharp tone of my voice. I forgot that I am a guest in your house."

"You are not only my guest, you are my friend. You should always feel free to speak to me any way you please." Penkark nodded her head in gratitude and they returned to their meal.

They finished the bird course and servants entered to carry away their dishes and plates. A few moments later they returned with the next course; almost full term goat foetuses served in their mother's blood. Tamberline licked her lips with delight and picked up her filleting knife.